


Behind Closed Doors

by applecameron



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6927058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecameron/pseuds/applecameron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're actually people, not personas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Closed Doors

The contrasts between them are what people notice - analytical v. emotional, put-together v. slapdash, introverted v. extroverted, etc., etc., etc., in a long boring litany of opposites that must therefore attract like two enemies who must fall in love by the end of the movie. If Eames is the sprawling, gorgeous, messy, decadent, soaringly vibrant Earth, then Arthur is the sterile, somewhat mysterious, reliable in all his phases, elegant, moon in orbit around him. 

First off, it's mostly show. Eames is as analytical as the next man (who is usually Arthur). Arthur makes intuitive leaps about people-connections that can rival those of the next man (who is usually Eames). They don't think alike, but why would they? They both pay a high degree of attention to what they look like, it's just that they're sending different messages: Arthur needs to look like a point man, and Eames, an artiste. 

Second off, they have a lot in common. A history of violence, for instance. An appreciation of the finer things in life, especially things that can be touched and savored directly (Arthur is perhaps slightly more interested in textiles and Islamic art whilst Eames cannot pass statuary by). A quasi-Buddhist acceptance of the ephemeral nature of things, and an ability to sleep almost anywhere. 

Third off, together, they are more than the sum of their individual parts, no matter what those parts look like from the outside, and no matter what their true nature might be. 

Behind closed doors (whether it's the flat in Paris that Dom Cobb knows about, or the little house outside Osaka that was a wedding gift from Saito, or some more temporary place), Eames is the one who knows where his reading glasses are when he climbs into bed with a biography of Albert Einstein. Arthur is the one who grumbles that he can't remember where his are and why the hell has he never just gotten that stupid lasik surgery anyway, at which Eames reminds him to check by the bathroom sink, which is of course where they are, and then hands him his book of poetry, because Arthur only reads poetry, plays, or short story anthologies before bed - never novel-length fiction or nonfiction (unless it's work), 

"Because I won't stop, Eames, and then you'll bitch at breakfast," 

"I won't _bitch_ , darling, I'm British," 

"You're Welsh," 

"That, too," - 

And in the normal course of things behind their closed doors, they are actually two people who floss, and burn toast in the morning, who love each other, and do things like have foibles, and the kind of mind-blowing coupling that you have only when you've learned to _make love_ , as in, _together_ , or maybe just cuddle up when Eames is done with his chapter, and Arthur's eyes are already shut and his glasses clasped in his hand (he goes for the sturdy plastic frames for just this reason), and Eames slides them out of his grip to put them someplace safe, by his own, and then puts his bookmark in place (an old Christmas card he doesn't even remember stealing, it was so long ago, whereas Arthur dogears pages if it's a cheap paperback, or just forgets where he stopped and has to hunt for it the next night), and turns off his bedside lamp, then stretches over Arthur to turn off _his_ , which makes him roll onto his side, into the perfect position for spooning, so Eames does just that, tucking them together and putting his arm along Arthur's waist, and contentedly follows him to the land of Nod.


End file.
